Silver Beauty
by Silenthunder
Summary: The patronus led Harry to the sword of Gryffindor, but what about the caster? One-shot. (Deathly Hallows spoilers!)


Late into the night, the snow fell and fell. But that did not deter the cloaked figure as he strode silently forward, wand out and a light at its tip thanks to the _Lumos_ spell. The cold was penetrating, the forest dark, but not as cold and dark as most people supposed him to be, a statue with heart of stone, a hawk that existed to hunt down and torment the weak. No one knew it, for when they looked at his face, they only saw an indifferent mask and a flat voice.

Well, there was at least one who knew Snape. The one who had talked him into this fool's errand. He had hated to kill Dumbledore, had hated even to talk about the plan to kill him. He had not even wanted to become Headmaster, to set up Death Eaters in charge of the school, for now the entire wizard world viewed him as an absolute monster, a title that Voldemort approved of. The thought that made him wince. He considered giving up and going back, for he hadn't found Granger, Weasley and Potter yet, and maybe never would.

But now he remembered, remembered the other person who had seen his heart, and he squared his shoulders, determined once more. Dumbledore might have talked him into acting, but it was for Lily that he was willing, even if she no longer loved him. And it was as he came to that conclusion that he found he could not go forward.

Putting his hand out, he touched the invisible firmness of a protection wall made by a spell. _A spell only made to hide oneself from those who aren't looking for the one who made it._ As he expected, the wall vanished, for the spell had sensed his purpose. He stepped forward, turned around, and used a spell to put the wall back. It was only fair, and it would hide his escape. Snape then commenced walking, cautious, his sharp black eyes searching.

And suddenly he saw it as blue light danced eerily on the ice: the ruby-hilted sword, at the bottom of the lake. _The Horocrux destroyer_. He stared at the historical item for a moment and then looked back up as something caught his eye. It was partly hidden image of a tent. Now he need look no farther. He knew what to do.

Using his wand to erase his tracks as he went, Professor Snape concealed himself amid the black trees, camouflaged by his long cloak that he now put up to his face. Now it was time for his plan. As he raised his wand, the memory of his love filled him, the reason he was saving the world; and even though he had to whisper the spell, he felt, as he sometimes had long ago, that he could have shouted it.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

Sleek, graceful and beautiful, the doe appeared, the spitting image of Lily's, and he gazed at her, breathless after not having cast and seen her for so long. He always fancied that a part of Lily was in the magic form. She turned to him, waiting, and he finally managed to mutter, "Find Potter and lead him here."

A slight dip of the head and she cantered away, light as a cloud, silver as the moon. He waited, still as stone, his concentration fixed, now not only with the thought of Lily, but with the new hope of Voldemort's coming defeat. Snowflakes fell lightly onto his shoulders and greasy hair as he counted the minutes.

"Come back!" It was Harry. Snape would know that voice anywhere after being his teacher for six years. And here he came, trying to catch up to the doe, panting, while she glided on ahead noiselessly. "That's it, Potter, that's it," he muttered, directing the patronus to disappear directly above the spot where the sword lay underwater. "Just a little closer..." Harry stared at the spot where the patronus had gone, puzzled, before he looked down to see the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

_Excellent_, the man thought, turning away, whispering the track wiping spell once more as he retreated deeper into the forest. His job was done. Now it was up to the boy. If Harry had an ounce of sense, he would know that spells wouldn't work on a sword like Godric's. The only way to retrieve something that belonged to a Founder would be to summon up every quality that made you a Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor or Slytherin, and then to act as a true Hogwarts student would. Hopefully he wouldn't die. Even Professor Snape, one of the nastiest teachers next to Dorles Umbridge – his lip curled at the thought of her – had never wanted Harry dead, despite his hatred. And it was especially now that he couldn't die.

He had promised that he would do this, make sure that Voldemort didn't know, that he would be a double-agent until the end. Severus looked up at the sky as he turned from repairing the barrier once more. A star twinkled brightly beside the moon. For the first time, he allowed himself the slightest smile as he held his wand up until it seemed as if the star was at its tip.

He had promised Dumbledore, but he had promised Lily first.


End file.
